


The Start of Eras

by Roughnight



Series: The Prince and the Pauper [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Jim, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, M/M, Omega John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roughnight/pseuds/Roughnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His addiction had to start somewhere. Jim purred against John’s mouth. He wished he could do that every day. Tasting. He finally found his omega.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Start of Eras

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nosetothewind94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosetothewind94/gifts).



> This Part3 is dedicated to nosetothewind94. Pls view nose’s wonderful art in this LINK : http://archiveofourown.org/works/1356790.  
> I stopped writing for a long, long time. I can't even give any excuse. It was seeing nose’s art about my Dance of Wolves that made me want to pick up the pen again and write Johnlock. Seriously, I owe nose. ^^  
> This fic is still not beta’d. All mistakes are on me. On my knees*  
> (I hope this one does not feel rushed.)
> 
> I feel so out of practice... but then again, we don't need practice in expressing love ^^

 

 

_/If it feels good,_

_tastes good,_

_It must be mine,_

_-The Emperor’s New Clothes. /_

*

 

 

It was raining heavily when Jim Moriarty found him.

 

 

Jim’s heart would pound ecstatically whenever that fateful day crosses his mind in remembrance. That was how it was. Jim _found_ him. Jim did not meet him.  ‘Meet’ seemed so shallow a word to describe his relationship with John Watson, after all. Nothing relating to his John could be trivial, could mean so little, or could be undervalued. That Jim found him implied a gratifying sense of belongingness and ownership. Because John ~~was~~ — _is_ his. If Jim could, he’d garnish the very ground his little blonde omega walks on with flower petals, diamonds and gold and desiccated limbs. It would have been wonderful.

 

 

It was raining heavily when Jim Moriarty found him. The dark clouds had cloaked the whole city of Scowall and the moon was scarcely visible. He remembered the cold clinging dreadfully on his skin and the heavy drizzle swallowing all forms of sound as the droplets hit the cobbled ground. Back then, Jim found himself in a territory he didn’t recognize. He had snuck out again. He had been exploring the dark underground passages of the castle like how he’d always done when he found a path he hadn’t bother to take before. It led him to one of the most unsavoury areas of Scowall. It was the bit the City does not recognize and thus shamefully hides from the other neighbouring places. Jim had known it immediately that he found _the_ place. Even the rain couldn’t wash out the foul smell of poverty and crime. He remembered how he thought it was the very ground where _the_ Jim Moriarty would truly start. His playground. The place will be his stage. Everyone starts with baby steps after all. What he had not known at that point was that his discovery would also lead him to the wolf who would change the course of his life.

 

 

 

Jim wound his way through the dirty alleys. He explored. He marvelled. He sniffed his nose in disgust every now and then. He inhaled the scent of the place and drunk all the details his dark eyes light upon. He walked and lived the place until he was dead sure he had a map imprinted inside his head, until he could see a vivid imitation of the paths he threaded on whenever he closed his eyes. He had, in any case, decided he would own the place. He would be the true King of that forgotten and forsaken residence. The whole town would smell of him sooner or later. He had these ideas inside his head.

 

 

_He had plans._

 

 

He threaded his way very cautiously, insidiously. His age was a disadvantage. While nothing was impossible, he found it bothersome to skirt around when he could’ve executed things far more efficiently the way he pictured things inside his head. He needed to be careful and observant. He wasn’t that powerful _yet_. And so Jim was being sly and stealthy with the shadows of the walls serving as his cover when he finally walked in on a brawl where upon his young John Watson was engaged with. 

 

 

It was not instantaneous. He had not immediately known then that he’d want a claim on John Watson. It wasn’t love at first love or some similar shit.

 

 

Jim watched closely, eyes, for some irrational reason, trained on the blonde boy with a knapsack who had his back against the wall. It was a very reckless predicament to find yourself in when you are outnumbered by older and bigger men… or by men who lived in the place you find yourself cornered in. It was clear as day to Jim that the blonde kid did not live in this place of the City.

 

 

Jim held himself and watched. The blonde boy’s eyes were darting around, clearly searching for an escape. It was of no use. He was absolutely cornered. There was no use calling for help as well—not when the rain seemed to want to pour heavily and eternally. Not that anyone who might notice would want to intervene in any case. They were in that part of the City where crime probably was just a breeze in the wind. The boy, he was younger than Jim. He was at the age where wolves first discover their gender. It was difficult to ascertain the blonde’s gender from his distance, not when the humid air had a permanent stench to it. Jim already knew the boy was a were. His instinct never failed him.  It was a gift. Even before the evidence was under his nose, he would know if someone was human or not. There was something about the boy that was especially wild and steady and solid. Jim found himself bracing with the uncontainable anticipation. There was something about the boy that was totally captivating. He was excited for a reason he could not explain. He was engrossed with witnessing how the scene would unfold.

 

 

The boy’s clear blue eyes were glaring defiantly at his assailants. He swiped at his forehead to clear his damp fringes off his eyes. His lean arm was trembling. The poor kid was unmistakably frightened. He had every reason to be. He seemed so ordinary. _So little_ in the face of his adversaries. Even so, Jim watched him clench his fist on his sides and grit his teeth like how a four legged form would bare its fangs. The boy opened his mouth and snarled. He said something to his assailants which Jim could not make out of the torrential rain.

 

 

_It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough._

 

 

Jim wanted to know what the exchanged words were. Badly.

 

 

And then it happened. The blonde little wolf leapt and practically threw his whole weight at one of the men. The brute fell on his back, head hitting the cobbled ground. The boy was already swinging his fist in the air, eyes savage and intent of hurting. He swung at his opponent’s face, one fistful after the other. He was fighting recklessly and beautifully. But then the other man who had been initially frozen by the surprise attack caught his bearings. He kicked at the boy’s side, throwing him off the beaten man. The boy fell on the ground with a thud. He howled in pain and clutched at his side, wincing.

 

 

The other man approached the boy but before he could lay another finger, Jim Moriarty was already on him. Out of nowhere. Jim struck with precision. Jim was older than the blonde boy but then Jim was also younger and smaller than the two attackers.  There was no way he could’ve defeated anyone of them with bare strength. Not that he even considered it. Jim’s lips were curved into a predatory smile as he felt his blade pierce through flesh, onto the man’s side. He trembled in excitement as he slid his dagger deeper, eyes fluttering, feeling the organs rip open. _It was so easy_ , killing a man. He had not known before… but it was so very easy as he imagined. He also didn’t know it could feel so exhilarating, so fulfilling.

 

 

He could have ended one there and then.

 

 

Jim back pedalled and tore himself from the human brute before the other could clutch at him reflexively. Jim didn’t want the man’s dirty hands on him. He watched, pleased, as the man fell on his knees, hands trembling and fear sculptured on his old face as he started down at the knife sticking on his torso. It was raining, but Jim was sure there were tears on his eyes.

 

 

 “I wouldn’t pull the knife off if I were you,” Jim stated matter of factly, head tilting to his side and eyes with detached interest. He found it fascinating, the glint of his blade under the moonlight and the slow dribble of blood as it mixed with the rain.

 

 

The other man the boy had initially beaten has eventually gotten up and ran to his comrade’s side. He looked between his accomplice, the dagger sticking out and then at Jim. His eyes were wide with terrified, bewildered recognition.

 

 

“Hmm,” Jim hummed, his smile extending to his eyes. “You aren’t dumb are you?”

 

 

“You… you’re…”

 

 

Jim was aware of the shuffling behind him. _Ahh yes_. The boy was already recovered. He glanced back at him and saw the boy witnessing the exchange of conversation.

 

 

“Well,” Jim drawled, “do you not need to take your friend somewhere?”

 

 

Jim did not bother with the grown men any more than necessary. They were inconsequential. One was likely to die soon anyway, what with his guts being ripped open, and Jim could always find them later if he wanted to. They had this foul smell you can always trace when needed. He turned his back on them, confident that there would not be any attack anymore, and instead placed his attention to what mattered most. Then again, even if the men did plan on anything underhanded, the blonde boy was apparently already looking out for him.

 

 

Jim stared down at the boy with renewed hunger. He kind of felt irked that the other wasn’t paying any attention to him. He also felt moved that the boy kept glaring warily on the men and watched them shuffle away. It was only when the men’s footsteps have all but faded within earshot that the boy started to properly look at him.

 

 

“Turning your back on them,” the boy muttered irritably, “are you stupid?”

 

 

Jim couldn’t help it. The edge of his lips twitched. That wasn’t what he expected.

 

 

“That was dangerous,” the boy further admonished.

 

 

Yes, Jim couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the endorphins or the rush of adrenaline from the earlier scuffle. His smile spread onto his face before he exploded into a full blown laughter.

 

 

_Dangerous._

 

 

Dangerous, he said. That really was funny. Didn’t the boy just see him gut someone with a dagger? There was a sense of giddiness in Jim as he shook with mirth, his shadows looming over the boy who was still kneeling on the ground, hands on his sore side. Jim laughed as the boy continued to scowl at him. He laughed as the boy looked at him with eyes of naked curiosity.

 

 

But then Jim noticed how the boy’s nose finally twitched in apprehension, noticed how the boy’s guard started to build up against him. This boy was a wolf after all. He’d have caught and recognized the coppery smell of blood. Jim knew when the other started remembering, _albeit belatedly_ , that Jim was the stranger who planted a knife in a grown man’s torso without any form of remorse. Jim saw his reflection on the younger boy’s blue eyes. There was a manic glint in Jim’s eyes even as his lips were curved to a smile.

 

 

The boy held his breath. _Good instinct_ , Jim thought.

 

 

“Your name,” Jim inquired sharply the soonest that he reined in his butterflies of laughter.

 

 

“John,” the boy answered promptly, staring at Jim with levelled gaze. Scared. The boy had his hands clenched into fists now. Jim wondered if it was a habit whenever the boy thought he would engage in a fight.

 

 

“John,” Jim carefully tasted the name in his tongue.

 

 

“T—thank you,” John said to him. John’s eyes never strayed away even when Jim was fairly sure that the latter was fighting the impulse to avert his eyes. The boy’s shackles were raised. Good instincts, Jim marvelled yet again. But also very polite, the boy was. John still recognized him as his saviour.

 

 

_Good_ , Jim thought to himself. _All good._

 

 

“Aren’t you going to pay me, in exchange for saving your life?” Jim tested. He extended a hand. He was gratified when John took it. Jim was taller than him.

 

 

“I don’t have money on me,” John answered honestly. “Didn’t you think I’d have given them what they wanted and stayed away from trouble instead?”

 

 

“Your knapsack,”

 

 

“There’s nothing of value,” John cut in hastily and defensively, teeth flashing in the dim light.

 

 

Jim mused. It was still raining but when he folded his arm and sniffed at the hand which John touched, he caught a trace scent. There was suddenly an indescribable ache in his stomach. John was an omega. The smell was almost washed away just as quickly but there was no mistake in its raw, maddening sweetness. This John was an omega and he had just had his first heat. Jim caught all of that from his scent. It all made sense now. Jim didn’t have to wonder about the encounter. It also explained the boy’s constant glaring and impossible sense of guardedness. This wonderful boy was an omega. Jim wanted to moan. But then he almost wanted to howl. He remembered how those men have hurt him.

 

 

“I… I really have to go,” John ventured.

 

 

Jim was also belatedly aware of another fact he dismissed earlier. The knapsack. John most probably had run away from home after the initial heat. That much was obvious. Why else would he be in the wrong side of the Scowall? He had just had his heat, found out he was an omega, and resolutely ran away. _From what?_ _For what?_ Jim’s mind buzzed in frenzy. That also wasn’t good. Jim could lose him. Jim could lose track of this amazing find. He cast John an inquisitive glance. An omega scared of his own gender but was also stubbornly strong and defiant. There was fire in John’s eyes. He didn’t pack a lot. For someone like him, there was only one course of action.

 

 

_Of course._

 

 

Jim’s thought process fired like rifle. He thought of manhandling John then and there. He thought of stealing this boy away and dragging him back to the castle. Perhaps he could drug John constantly in one of his secret rooms and keep him for himself forever. But then, where would be the fun in that? This omega was amazing but he was also just starting. He’d grow more beautifully. Jim could watch him, foster that growth and then pluck him at the right time. It clearly wasn’t the right time.  Jim was still powerless. _Not helpless_. Just not powerful enough to keep something so precious by his side.

 

 

“Your last name,” Jim asked instead.

 

 

“Excuse me?”

 

 

“You owe me.” Jim clarified. “I want your last name.”

 

 

“Watson,” John answered, his eyebrows frowning in confusion.

 

 

“ _Watson_ ,” Jim exhaled, “John Watson…”

 

 

And then Jim was dragging his feet until he was pressed against John from head to toes. His mouth was on the beautiful, beautiful omega, tasting and owning. He engaged the other boy in an unforgiving open mouthed kiss, his tongue swiping every curve of the boy’s palate. Jim purred against John’s mouth. He wished he could do that every day. Tasting. He finally found his omega. John didn’t refute him. John didn’t accept him either. His John was just frozen in place, at the receiving end of Jim’s carnal hunger. Jim was intoxicated and lost. He took pleasure in taking. He was not surprised in the boy’s submission. Jim Moriarty was an alpha through and through, and John, no matter how wilful he thought himself to be, was a sensitized omega who had just had his first heat. Jim bit at John’s lower lip, enough to draw blood, before he sucked on its sweetness. He dragged his tongue on John neck and felt for his omega’s pulse.

 

 

It was only when Jim’s mouth hovered over the base of the neck where the gland would be that John recovered and managed to push him away.

 

 

Jim growled instinctively.

 

 

Seeing John’s flushed and dishevelled face brought him back to his senses. The blood on John’s lips, Jim did that. John’s heaving and trembling, Jim also did those. There was a sense of gratification in that as if the insides of his chest were being caressed.

 

 

John stared at him, stunned.

 

 

“What are you…”

 

 

John’s eyes were saucer wide. _Alpha_. His mind must now be flashing red lights in understanding and warning.

 

 

“Go,” Jim commanded in a whisper, his pupils dilated and his eyes dark with hunger.

 

 

John didn’t need to be told twice.

 

 

John Watson, his smart, brave and polite little omega, gave Jim a grateful nod before dashing away. John did not look back, not even once, so intent on getting to where he was supposed to go and so determined with keeping distance from Jim.

 

 

Dangerous, John admonished before. It was Jim who was truly dangerous. He was so close with claiming. Not that Jim shouldn’t, but Jim Moriarty had grand plans inside his head.  He had these so many ideas. He also had so many firsts in one night. He placed a hand on his chest and then brought his palms higher so he could sniff at them.

 

 

John’s smell.

 

 

John was a straight forward person. That much was apparent. Jim looked at the direction that the blonde omega took. Looked up past the old rooftops and dirty chimneys and onto the towering university in the distance. _A Watson_. Of course. Jim already knew all that was inside John Watson’s head.  He was thrilled with that. John was already dead set on his path filled with thorns. Jim felt an irrational sense of pride. They have both separately made their choices already. Jim looked down at his evidence of arousal. The minute memory of stabbing a man and almost ending its life and the sensation of John Watson filling all of his senses was too much. It physically hurt.

 

 

It was new. This excitement of looking forward what kind of man his John would turn out to be. Jim bet that John, seemingly ordinary he might be, would defile all expectations. Jim bet he would grow beautifully.

 

 

The rain had stopped. The clouds started to part. Jim let out a desperate howl to the moon which had finally started to show itself properly. It had taken everything in Jim not to tear at his chest and not to sprint and start a mad hunt after his blonde omega. He wished John could hear his howls from where he was now running.

 

 

Jim’s age was a disadvantage. That disadvantage was bound to stop being one, eventually. Jim did not have as much power as he would have preferred. It was not something he cannot change.

 

 

He needed the Crown if he was to keep track of a certain wolf and if he was to keep the bugs away. He’d like to think that tonight, he bought time. John was not likely to forget about him anytime soon. The memories of tonight would creep on the younger boy when he least expected it, during the nights when it rains.

 

 

_/I see what’s mine and take it_

_Finders keepers, losers weepers/_

That night, Jim went home whistling. He stayed rooted where John left him until the break of dawn. Whistling. It was another new thing for Jim Moriarty. He could still taste John in his lips and smell the sweet lingering scent of the omega. Jim knew what John Watson was about to attempt.

 

It would be a shame, he thought, when John finally loses his wolf scent.

*


End file.
